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Walkies with the Poodle and Deacon

Yesterday's walkies got canceled on account of HOT. Everything was fine, although there was a lot of panting, until we started to walk up a nice sandy hill with a whole lot of HOT.

Well, it wasn't quite like that. Because first, you see, we had to park. Ever tried parking at a public park near San Francisco on the first hot sunny Sunday of the spring? Heh. That was entertaining, and we parked about as far away from the place where we usually walk as we usually walk. And parking was a pain, and then my aunt had to go back for sunscreen, and for the doggie treat bag, and the dogs were rather impatient about all this noise ...

...and when we actually get to where we can let them off the leash, they are Not All About It, but manfully (dogfully?) Keep On until we hit the hill. (The poodle only tries to run into the parking lot twice, which is good, for him.) The poodle scrambles up and hides in the shade of a hummock, panting. Deacon is trying to keep all four feet off the ground at the same time. Since he is a creaky old dog, this translates to lifting each foot as high as possible while standing gingerly.

"Do you think it will help if I dip his feet in water?" asked my aunt.

"I think it'll help get his feet muddy," I opine.

She does anyway. He's still not happy. We turn around. Rather than walking all the way back to the car and playing fun games with whoever parked behind vs. the dog ramp, I stayed with the dogs while my aunt brought the car. I was only asked once if I was going to move my car (the car I was standing next to of course naturally being "mine"); happily, by that time, I saw my aunt coming around the bend and was able to indicate her car as the one I belonged with, and the dogs were loaded with very little fuss.


On Saturday, there was something that was not quite an Incident, but was definitely Interesting. A smaller dog who had been going the other way decided that the poodle was the *best thing on earth*, and was sniffing him, running around with him, trying to lick his dick, and trying to hump him. The poodle was all about the running around, wasn't so into the licking, and was Definitely Not About the attempted humping, and there was a little bit of snapping. "You tell him!" cheered the owner of the Other Dog.

The owner eventually tired of the sport (well, that happened about a minute in) and tried to get a leash on the dog. That was easier attempted than done, and there was a bit of doing. The poodle was not much help. The other dog was eventually collared and dragged off, and we continued on our merry way.
Gone away, gone ahead,
Echoes roll unanswered.
Empty, open, dusty, dead.
Why have all the Weyrfolk fled?

Where have dragons gone together
Leaving weyrs to wind and weather,
Setting herdbeasts free of tether;
Gone, our safeguards, gone, but whither?

Have they flown to some new weyr
Where cruel Threads some others fear?
Are they worlds away from here?
Why, oh why the empty weyr?

-- "The Question Song", Anne McCaffrey
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